A journey - part three

On my own

I left the couple alone for some hours today to wallow in their love. Even though they didn't want to admit it, they needed it – and I needed to do a bit of wallowing on my own. So I borrowed an IPod and walked through the town, knowing that these are not my streets. I have borrowed them from the mermaid. He is not here. I carefully chose the time to come based on the information that he would be visiting Scandinavia – my home – while I am here. I smile at the irony in this every day and still I feel an old dream stirring that I might just bump into him and be able to look him in the eyes. It is a dream with underlying tones of a nightmare, because I know that I would never meet the mermaid; I would meet a man. A man that cannot handle to see me; a man that I cannot handle to see.

His words are so beautiful, but they reveal the ugly truth to the one that wants to see it. Walking these streets, the mermaid becomes more vivid and more beautiful once again. But the reality also becomes more real. Words like "His wife is actually quite a nice lady" are uttered and I have to face that this might be the truth instead of what I believed.

I walk around this town, I see things he told me about, and things that I can imagine have inspired his thoughts on several subjects. I understand more and at the same time I understand less. Being reminded of numerous conversations about how great it would be if I could find an excuse to visit his town, I am constantly also faced with the fact that if he were to meet me, it would be awkward and tense and filled with negative emotions and my apparent urge to flee from the scene. Meeting would not be what we dreamed of, and that is ok; but I could not meet this person and pretend that everything was fine and that the dream had never been. I don't want that dream meeting; I want nothing at all: I especially do not want a meeting where every word and every gesture is meant to conceal all conversations we ever had. On the other hand I do not want to be the object of shame either. I am, however. There's not much to do about that; what I did and what I accepted from him was wrong in every sense of the word, and I should not have done so.

Thus I am the object of shame. He will be running away from the idea of me from now on and probably till he forgets there ever was an idea like me. It hurts being something to be ashamed about. Therefore I want to punch him. To remind him that instead of turning his back on me, he can face me and tell me to go away, and I would respect that. It would be nice, though, to feel one's presence acknowledged, but I know that won't happen. He has disconnected, he has returned to another life struggling to keep the facade in place; hoping that if he is perfect on the outside, then maybe one day he will be so inside as well.

I cannot handle having him in my life more. I cannot be the secret friend and I will not have a friendship that no one can ever know the origin of. I tire of this and will soon leave these streets behind. The city of the mermaid will stay here and I will leave and help him forget me. This was my goodbye. I won't look back – I hope..